Marco Polo

Author note: 

It wasn’t often that he could witness such an enticing sight. Marco looked down at his flustered face and smiled fondly. The sight was beyond erotic: Jean’s eyes tightly shut, his bangs sticking to his forehead and his mouth agape, chanting his name so wantonly. He might not admit it, but it was crystal clear that Jean liked their occasional change of roles. Marco looked forward to it every single time, because Jean was just so much more vocal like this.

"Jean ~ ♥" Marco moaned happily in reply.

With every thrust his name fell of those swollen, red lips begging for him to lean down and kiss him some more. Instead Marco lowered his lips to Jean’s ear, replying with the man’s own name again and again. The chanting grew louder as a result, driving him wild with desire to have him scream at the top of his lungs. They were merely starting however. Marco wanted to try more and couldn’t afford Jean to spill so soon. This was a moment to cherish, a moment to exploit before Jean decided to take the reins once more.

And so, with the next sultry exhale of his name from Jean’s lips, Marco leaned back and gave one particular hard push of his hips, saying: “Polo.” Then, he simply stopped moving at all.

Jean eyes, though unfocused and barely opened, stared at him in confusion. “Wha?” he asked whilst panting. “Dude, mood killer!” he exclaimed finally understanding the awfully timed pun. He swung an arm over his eyes in embarrassment.

Marco gave a cheeky grin, raising Jean’s legs high and draping them over his shoulder, bending him as much as possible without straining his back. “I’m sorry, please don’t stop moaning my name” Marco replied watching crimson spread on Jean’s cheeks and ears.

"Jean ~ ♥" Marco called out cheerfully.

After that Marco had to try extra hard to get Jean to respond vocally, but it had been worth it.